


Faerie Hangover

by hypothetical_chainsaw



Category: True Blood
Genre: Drunk Jessica, F/M, Faerie Blood, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, paric, season 6, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2383523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypothetical_chainsaw/pseuds/hypothetical_chainsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the beginning of season six. A drunken Jessica arrives at Fangtasia. She wakes up with little memory of the previous night or how she arrived in an unfamiliar room. Paric fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faerie Hangover

**Author's Note:**

> I've played with the timeline of season six slightly. After being shot, Tara left Shreveport and, as a result, Pam wasn't taken to Vamp camp. This is set the night of Warlow's arrival in Bon Temp. Let me know if there are any other discrepancies in the timeline.

        

                For the first time since it’s opening, Fangtasia’s business was slow. Pam counted six vamps and eight humans, most of whom had made a point of coupling off within the first hour of being there. She had planned to do the same, knowing that Ginger could take few more feeding sessions without a prolonged rest. While the two remaining men each made several attempts to garner her interest, neither met her baseline requirements. She had served one half an hour earlier, shooing him away as he suggested he buy her a trublood. When he became insistent, she bared her fangs, pulling him to her by the front of his shirt.

                “Usually I like the married type,” eluding to the obvious tan line at the base of his ring finger, “They’re more eager to please. But you,” she paused momentarily to watch a drop of sweat slide down his temple. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, “smell like a cheap motel room’s complimentary cologne and I don’t go for soon to be divorcees. Too needy.”

                She had released him, popping her fangs back up and fixing a saccharin smile on her face as she slid his glass across the bar, “Enjoy that drink now.”

                He had not returned to the bar since and instead brooded in the corner.

                After her relative amusement at the situation subsided, she once again found herself with little to do. She stared again at the last remaining human, a typical fangbanger, arguing with herself as to whether or not it was worth lowering her standards to that in order to bring a temporary end to her boredom. He was tall, one point in his favour, but that was as far as his appeal seemed to go. He was much too slim for his height, that and the sheer amount of alcohol he had consumed causing him to sway softly in his seat.

                Leaning against the bar, she flicked her gaze up, her eyes on Eric in his throne. He was the only desirable thing in the bar, besides herself. She smirked slightly at the self-congratulatory thought, unable to deny it. Despite the effort Pam had put into her appearance that evening, Eric had ordered her to stay behind the bar for the evening. She may not have had to follow his commands anymore but, seeing his eyes clouded in unspoken concern, she had complied. That concern had stayed with him all night, causing Pam to long for the days when she could simply close her eyes and feel him. More importantly, feel what to do ease his worries.

As it was, she was left to guess at solutions. Her attempt at ‘dolling herself up’ as he called it, had worked only for a short period of time and without their link, she found herself only able to think of how she had lifted men’s spirits back in her human years.

She tapped Ginger’s shoulder as she passed, throwing the rag she had been holding at her, “Watch the bar.” With that, she rounded the bar, absently toying with her ponytail as she began across the room to her maker.

She was no more than halfway across the dance floor when the drunken fangbanger she had earlier been considering rose to his feet, his hand reaching to wrap around the leather of her corseted waist in an attempt to pull her into him.

“Miss vampire,” She groaned internally at his drunken slur, spinning to face him, a hand on her hip, “I was hopin’”

“You were hopin’,” She cut him off mimicking his drawl.  Staring up at him, her eye-line otherwise level with his chest, she continued “That I might want to take you out into the alley and let you fuck me?” She removed her hand from her hip as she leant into him, grabbing his crotch, gripping softly. She tilted her head to the side. He definitely wasn’t her type, “Is that what you were hopin’?”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded wildly, a grin already on his face at her hand placement.

Smirking, she ran her hand up his stomach to his chest, “No.” She deadpanned, shoving him back into his seat.

Wiping her hand on her skirt, she continued on to her maker, watching his face for any reaction to what had just transpired. Nothing. Reaching him, she positioned herself before him, raising a brow.

                “Well aren’t you a lonely Viking?” She curtsied as low as the restrictive fabric of her skirt would allow, winking as she rose again.

                Breaking his pensive stare, Eric blinked finally noticing her presence before him, “Pamela.” His voice was curt, the statement simply to acknowledge his seeing her.

                Pouting softly, his progeny joined him on the stage, running her finger along the throne’s woodwork as she placed herself behind him. Though breathing was unnecessary for her she knew Eric loved it, that being the reason for him choosing so many human mates over the centuries, and so she focused on producing a soft rhythm of inhales and exhales. The little air she released with each exhale ran through his hair as she leant her body against the throne’s back, her lips brushing his ear.

                “You look far too sad.” She tried again, her voice low as she reached forward, resting her hands on his shoulders momentarily before letting them run down his chest, “Let me cheer you up.”

                He took her hands in his, causing a genuine smile to curve her lips. “Pamela.” His warning tone didn’t match the action and he soon removed her hands from him, letting them fall to her sides.

                Settling for sitting on the arm of his throne, she shoved his own arm away from it, huffing as she seated herself ungracefully. “Eric, it’s a dry patch, sulking about it won’t help.” She paused, her eyes flitting over his features. Turning herself as far as her position would allow she lifted a hand, resting it on his cheek. Her thumb stroked the small creases that had long ago formed around his eyes, “You know we get less customers this time of year, it’ll pick up.”

                Cupping his chin with her other hand, she angled his face to hers, staring into his eyes momentarily before kissing him softly. Before releasing him, she tilted her own head until her forehead rested against his. He’d been like this since the tentative reopening of the bar the week before. They had both known they were mad to think they’d get many patrons to an illegal underground vampire bar, but the turnout was poor even compared to their less than optimistic expectations. When he reached up his hand she thought he meant to move her, but he instead reached for an errant strand of hair, curling it around his finger.

                “Min lilla optimistiska hora.” She heard, rather than saw, the smirk in his words.

                Though she smacked his chest, she laughed softly, pulling back just enough to see the glitter in his eyes, “Min stora surar Viking.” Her lips curved to match his as, just for a second, she saw his worries retreat to the back of his mind.

                Their moment was broken however, shortly after it had begun, a gust of wind sweeping through the bar as the door ricocheted against the wall. Both blondes sprung to their feet, fangs bared as they took up defensive stances. They had agreed before reopening the bar that they would each have to defend themselves, and yet Pam noted how Eric had positioned himself almost directly in front of her. Had she not been focused on the incursion, she would have slipped her hand into his, squeezing in silent thanks. Instead, she stared round him, growling at the flash of red as it came to a stop. While it was no raid, Pam might have preferred that to the lone vampire stood before them.

Eyes glazed over, her face vacant, the redhead swayed softly in place before the throne. Blinking slowly, she giggled, the sound drawing attention to the blood still coating her lips. Eric glanced momentarily at Pam, his eyes flicking to the door, before concentrating again on the girl before him.

“Jessica!” His voice was little more than a hiss but as he spoke all eyes in the club trained on him. She jumped, slightly startled, as he vamped to her, his height allowing him to loom over her slight frame.

Taking her cue from him, Pam moved to the door. Stepping out into the car park, she scanned the nearby area for witnesses of the baby vamp’s behaviour. Finding none, she pulled the door closed again before joining Eric at his side. Her small hand resting on his arm, she muttered “Lugn, de håller ögonen på din varje steg.” the words prompting him to retract his fangs as she did the same.

                “Do you know,” Jessica began, her voice in sharp contrast to Pam’s, as she rested a hand on Eric’s chest to steady herself, “There are things with better blood than humans?” Not pausing for a response she opened her mouth in a toothy grin, revealing her blood stained fangs, “It tastes so,” She scrunched up her face as she searched for how to word it, “Like a pop tart when all you’ve ever eaten for breakfast is toast. Yanno?” With that, she pushed off from Eric’s chest, using the slight backwards propulsion this provided to step back into a small twirl.

                Pam raised a brow as she watched. She hadn’t had anything resembling toast since before the invention of sliced bread and refused to drink from anyone who ate anything as processed as pop tarts. She glanced up at Eric, his expression more bemused than hers. As far as she was aware, he didn’t even know how to make toast.

                “No, we don’t know.” Pam shifted her weight to her right foot, placing a hand on her hip, “Yanno?”

                “Pamela.” She hated when he used her full name to chastise her. When he’d first turned her, it was all he’d called her during long nights together and to hear it used as a reprimand filled her with remorse, "Ta hem henne, hon kan inte stanna här."

                “Eric,” It came out as more of a whine than she had intended but, as she turned to face him, her maker’s stern face soon silenced her.

                “Gör inte mig att tvinga dig.” He flipped his fangs down for the shortest of moments, a growl deep in his throat, before popping them up again.

                Knowing the argument was already lost, she took hold of Jessica’s arm, giving it a slight tug, “Cheeto, with me.”

                The redhead put up a surprising amount of resistance as Pam forced her to follow. Planting her feet down after a few paces, she managed to overcome Pam’s grip, making to walk through back to Eric. She tilted her head upwards when she reached him, staring up into his eyes.

                “But I wanted to see Tara.” She pouted, her giggling stopping for the first time since she’d arrived.

                At hearing the name Pam let the arm that had previously had hold of Jessica fall to her side. She hadn’t seen or felt her progeny since the night she had been shot. Testing their bond, she waited for the small flutter she would feel if Tara would let her in. She found herself still blocked, silently cursing that she had taught her how to shut her out. She had done it for the same reason Eric had taught her; it to save a progeny from experiencing pain if a maker was injured and unable to close the link themselves.

                Taking hold of the girl’s arm once more, she began walking her away, her fingers wrapped around her slender arm tight enough to leave marks this time, “She left.” In no mood to explain, she quickened her pace, “With me, now.”

*

An hour had passed before they had made it even halfway to Bon Temp. They had started off at a decent speed, Pam dragging the girl behind her as she stumbled over tree roots, but Jessica had soon gotten her foot stuck in a rabbit burrow. It wouldn’t have been a problem if she hadn’t fallen face first in a pile of leaves. Now running from tree to tree, she searched the forest for the perfect leaf, wanting to remember her ‘fall in fall’ as she put it. Having realised shortly into the search that it was pointless to try to stop her, Pam leant against the nearest tree, tilting her head to the side as she watched.

                “Whatever you’re on, I might have to try.” She smirked, her amusement at the girl’s actions enough to placate her slightly, “But right now, we need to get you back to your maker before he fucking rips my head off.”

                Jessica halted, the sudden stop throwing her off balance causing her to fall into the undergrowth again. Pushing herself up to a kneeling position, she clasped her fists together as though in prayer, “Don’t send me back to Billith!” Her pout was back, bottom lip quivering, “Please,” Brushing her hair back from her face, she rose again to stand before the blonde.

                “Billith?” At that a small smirk twitched Pam’s lips but was gone before the redhead could see, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hand you over, Cheeto.”

                Pausing momentarily, her forehead creased in thought, Jessica brushed the dirt from her dress. Focusing back on Pam, she tiptoed the remaining few feet between them, their faces inches apart.

                Pam reached forward, giving the girl’s hair an unnecessarily hard tug as she pulled a twig from it. When she yelped in shock, the older vamp rolled her eyes, brushing the strands back behind her ear, delicately this time, “Who the fuck did you drink?”

                Snuggling her head into Pam’s shoulder, Jessica spoke in hushed tones, “Bill told me not to bite him, but I did it anyway.” She wrapped her arms around Pam’s waist, her muffled voice coming out in slight sobs, “You know how he can be and I just wanted a human instead of that trublood crap.”

                Much to Pam’s relief, she released her at that, instead throwing her hand over her mouth as she realised what she’d just said. Even with the tenuous state of the current power struggle between the two women’s makers, Pam couldn’t resist an opportunity to piss the Bill off.

                “Walk straight there,” the older vamp had already begun walking as she spoke prompting the other to follow, “and I might let you stay the night.” Jessica nodded at the command as she trailed behind, “Stop to check anymore leaves, and I’ll send you back to Billith.” Pam smirked at the name, not noticing as Jessica lowered her outstretched arm away from a nearby tree branch.

*

                Eric arrived home not long before dawn, throwing his jacket to the floor as he entered. He knew Pam would complain about it tomorrow, but right now he was too drained to care. After Jessica had been escorted out of the club, hushed conversations began. Knowing that details of that night getting out could only mean trouble, he set about glamouring the human patrons and bribing the vamps. Tired, and a few thousand dollars out of pocket, he climbed the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He stopped. Something was different.

                Letting his shirt hang loose, he lowered his fangs, reaching for his bedroom door. His eyes scanned the room as he pushed it open, searching for any threat. A distinct flash of pink on his bed stood out in great contrast against the grey sheets. Pam.

Having gotten Jessica to bed, she had settled into Eric’s, flipping through the latest copy of Vogue. She had intended to wait up for him, but had fallen asleep at somewhere around 4am; her time spent sheparding the younger vamp into the house having sapped her of all energy.

It’d been month since he’d last seen her in his bed and he found himself oddly comforted by the sight of her slight form curled around her pillow. A smile softened his pale face; she only ever slept like that when he wasn’t beside her. As such, she had insisted on him having extra pillows in his bed for whenever he was called away for business. Even without him there she had preferred staying in his room, explaining it away by suggesting that his mattress was more comfortable than hers. He’d known it wasn’t true.

The extra pillows had moved to her room permanently at the same time as she had. 

                Undressing, he pulled the covers back slightly, sliding in beside her. The movement of the bed awakened her, causing her to groan softly, though she stopped upon feeling Eric’s hand rest gently on her waist.

                “And to what,” he kissed her shoulder softly, “do I have the pleasure of finding Miss De Beaufort in my bed?”

                She took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers, her voice thick with sleep, “Jessica’s in mine.” Not feeling the need to explain any further, she closed her eyes, but opened them again at the feel of Eric’s stare, turning over to face him,” She disobeyed Billith and didn’t want to go home,” she shrugged her shoulder as best she could, “And what can I say, I have a soft spot for redheads.”

                Eric smirked. He’d witnessed first-hand how she adored redheads, when they had spent a four month stint in Scotland. In their time there he’d seen at least twenty-three redheaded women leaving her room, clothing dishevelled and fang marks fresh on their necks.

                “Billith?” he raised an eyebrow, clearly approving. Removing his hand from hers, he brought it down to trace small patterns over the skin of her silk covered hip, “She drank a faerie, probably drained it dry too.”

                “If I need to get rid of another body for her I’ll kill her.” Pam interjected, already making to leave the bed. She was pulled back into the sheets by a forceful tug on her arm from her maker.

                “It’s nearly dawn, there’s nothing you can do about it now. You can deal with it once she’s awake.” He pulled her into his arms, “Take the shovel.”

                They were on the brink of sleep when her words finally registered with him, causing him to lift his head and stare down at her, “Another body?”

                “It’s a long story,” She opened one eye, pulling him back down, “Now sleep.” Giving him no room to argue, she snuggled her head into the crook of his neck.

                With her in his arms, he rested better than he had in weeks.

*

                At 8pm, the lights in Pam’s room automatically switched on, rising slowly from a dim glow to just bright enough to wake the sleeping redhead. Releasing a groan, Jessica pulled a pillow over her face. She’d never had alcohol but, from what she’d seen in movies, she imagined this was what a hangover felt like.

                “Aren’t vampires supposed to heal?” She grumbled throwing her arms to her sides, wanting nothing more than to be able to sleep again.

                The previous night was hazy. She remembered feeding, the smallest hint of the blood still coating her teeth. She tested it with her tongue. Only Hoyt had made her moan with as much gusto as she did then. It was as though the blood was purely for her tastebuds, combining all the best elements of the foods that had once been her favourites. The taste fading, she remembered standing in Fangtasia, but not how she’d gotten there. And she remembered Pam, not in the club, but in the woods with her for some reason.

                Her hands roamed over the fabric surrounding her. Silk. Her bedsheets weren’t silk. Slowly removing the pillow from her face, she hissed at the light. The room around her was pink for all but the cream of the woodwork. Each wall was covered with the same sheer, billowing, fabric that surrounded the bed. It was nothing if not decadent.

                Slipping through a gap in the fabric, she glanced around in search of her clothes. She had not undressed herself, she knew that much, and yet she found herself stood clad in only her modest underwear.

                Her dress had been left on the stool in front of the vanity, her shoes tucked neatly underneath. She caught sight of herself, in the vanity mirror, while slipping into her dress. She hadn’t looked that pale since the night she’d been turned. Groaning once more, she ran a hand over her face, focusing instead on her surroundings again.

                The room was clearly a vampire’s, the large shades covering each window telling her that. She ran through the vampires she knew in her mind. Bill, Tara, Nora, Eric, Pam. Pam. She was the only one she could think of who’d need a room quite like this. Oh god, she must have walked her through the woods in the state she’d been in. She cringed.

                She couldn’t stay up there all night. If she knew Bill, he’d already be out looking for her and she’d rather go out of her own volition than be summoned. After tying her laces, she started down the stairs, moving as quietly as she could. Movement from the kitchen caught her eye before she could reach the door.

                Sat at the table, Eric scanned the paper, toying with the corner. That was sight enough, but it was the soft humming coming from the room that kept her there, curiosity piqued. The sound stopped suddenly.

                “What was that song called?” Even without seeing her, Jessica recognised her voice.

                “Pam,” Eric replied, eyes not leaving the paper, “You lost that record in 1922, I have no idea what the song’s called.”

                There was a brief moment of silence before the humming started again. She stepped into view, back turned to the young vampire, her short silk robe flowing out behind her as she walked to Eric.

                “AB+.” She set a mug down in front of him, “heated just how you like it.”

                Now unable to see Eric’s face, Jessica was left to guess his reactions by voice alone, “Ginger’s?”

                She heard the rustle of the paper being set down. Pam shook her head minutely.

                “Spanish, I know that’s your favourite.” Deepening her voice, in an imitation of him, she added, “A nap in the middle of the day really rejuvenates the blood.”

“It does.” He pulled the blonde down slightly, kissing her, “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“I do. In fact, I don’t know why I put up with you.” She kissed him again before straightening up.

“Oh, you know why.” Pam let out a short yelp as Eric gave her ass a soft slap.

 There was a pause in which Jessica made for the door again, only to be stopped by Eric’s voice. “Faerie blood out of your system yet?” His head appeared from behind Pam, a smirk on his face as Jessica cringed internally at being caught.

                “It was faerie blood?” Until that point, she hadn’t even considered that it might have been another species.

                Pam made her way around Eric, trailing her hand across his shoulders as she did so, lowering herself into the chair alongside his. Her view of Eric now unimpeded, Jessica saw the smirk she had heard. He didn’t answer her question though, instead returning to his paper.

                “Did you drink it dry?” Pam spoke from behind her mug, taking in a breath to blow softly on the red liquid it contained. She preferred her blood slightly cooler than her maker, but she made it to match his taste each time, “Cause burying a body’s not on my to-do list.”

                Jessica thought back, shifting from foot to foot as she did so. It was still hazy in her mind, but she thought she remembered his laboured breaths.

                “I…I think he’s still alive.” Her attempt to portray any level of confidence failed and her voice instead came out a tad higher than usual.

                “Good.” Pam’s voice was warmer this time, if it could ever be considered warm, “There’s blood on the side for you. You look like shit.”

                Uncertain of what to do, Jess stood in the doorway for a minute before succumbing to the scent of the blood. It wasn’t as good as the smell from the previous night, but it was a hell of a lot better than the trublood Bill forced upon her. She took several measured steps into the room. The more she saw of their house, the less it was as she expected. The kitchen was modern, with clean angles to it, and spotless; Pam’s choice, she assumed. A mug, similar to that clutched by Pam sat upon the granite worktop. She took it, unsure whether she should join them at the table or stay there.

                She was distracted from this thought when Pam nudged Eric’s hand with her own, causing him to look up from his paper, “I’m not heating that up again,” She nodded to his mug, “So get drinking before it cools down.” He obliged, the cup nearly to his lips when she added, “And pass me the style section.”

                He hid a mischievous smile behind his mug, Jessica just able to catch it, “I can do one or the other, Pamela. Pick.”

                He knew what his response would provoke and set the mug down in just enough time to stop it from spilling as Pam’s open palm hit his arm softly.

                “Oh, stop being difficult,” She hit him again though her soft chuckle filled the room as she did so.

                He caught her arm the third time, pulling her in slightly to kiss her, her arm instantly falling limp in his grip, “You know you love me when I’m difficult.” He teased, pulling back while sliding the requested section of the newspaper over.

                Jessica sipped absentmindedly at her own mug, content with watching the scene play out in front of her. Never had she seen either of them smile so genuinely. Until then, she hadn’t stopped to consider that vampire relationships could be so normal, yet here they sat, happier than she’d ever seen her own parents.

                Eric’s drink was gone near instantly, all that remained a slight smudge of blood below his lip, “My compliments to the chef.” He gave a slight inclination of his head in Pam’s direction before changing the subject, “You sure you’re okay to take her home?”

                “You’d rather she face the might of Billith alone?” While the comment was flippant, there was genuine concern there.

                “Actually,” Jessica piped up, causing both their heads to turn, “I can just walk myself home.”

                The older vampires blinked before focusing on each other again, “He’s more pissed at you than he is at me, Eric. Besides, you have a club to open.” Her tone left no room for argument and so his simply nodded.

                Rising from the chair, he pulled his jacket from the back of it, “But if you’re not there before eleven,” he tilted her chin up, kissing her deeply, “I’m coming to find you.”

                With that, he vamped from the house, leaving Jessica with a small smile on her face as Pam’s hair fluttered in the breeze his swift departure had caused.

                “You saw none of that.” Her voice back to its usual disinterested drawl, Pam collected the mugs, placing them in the sink, “He’s still a thousand year old Viking warrior and I’m still an ex-whorehouse madame with a heart of stone. Understood?”

                “You ran a whorehouse?”

                “Understood?” Pam persisted, more forcefully this time.

                “Yep, you two aren’t even slightly cute and domestic, got it.” That earned her a shove as Pam moved past her to get dressed. “Oh, um, Pam.” The blonde paused on the stairs but didn’t turn, “I woke up in my underwear…”

                A smirk curved Pam’s lips, “My bed has a strict no clothes policy. No exceptions.” She continued up the stairs, humming, the song she could no longer remember the name of, as she went.

 

 

min lilla optimistiska hora: my little optimistic whore

min stora surar Viking: my big sulking vampire

lugn, de håller ögonen på din varje steg: calm, they're watching your every move

ta hem henne, hon kan inte stanna här: Take her home, she can’t stay here

gör inte mig att tvinga dig: do not make me force you

**Author's Note:**

> So I hope you enjoyed my first Paric fic, reviews and constructive criticism is always appreciated =)


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